


Poor Little Rich Boy

by EliDeetz



Series: Ode to Divorce - Series [2]
Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Inspired by a Regina Spektor song, Language, More fighting all the fighting, Ransom Drysdale Being an Asshole, fake dating sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliDeetz/pseuds/EliDeetz
Summary: The girl is stunning, there’s no doubt about it. Her blonde hair is perfectly styled, makeup flawless albeit a bit over the top, along with the dress she keeps complaining about. It is tight, riling up her legs and falling lower on her braless chest whenever she makes the tiniest movement. She’s going to be the talk of the night later at the club.At the party he’s currently driving to, however, they’re going to hate her.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale & Reader, Ransom Drysdale & You, Ransom Drysdale/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/You
Series: Ode to Divorce - Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888285
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Poor Little Rich Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a second part, but not exactly a sequel, to Ode to Divorce. It can definitely stand on it's own so if you haven't read the previous one don't sweat it! It'll make sense. I hope this makes sense and you'll enjoy it:)
> 
> Also yes, I've been listening to Regina Spektor non-stop so this entire thing keeps being inspired by her music. If more parts happen, expect them to be inspired by it as well lol

“God this dress fits me so tight, I should've worn the other one.” The girl in the passenger seat whines for the hundredth time since he picked her up.

She keeps looking at herself in the sideview mirror of his car, complaining about her looks in detail, and applying gloss over her full, pink lips.

The girl is stunning, there’s no doubt about it. Her blonde hair is perfectly styled, makeup flawless albeit a bit over the top, along with the dress she keeps complaining about. It is tight, riling up her legs and falling lower on her braless chest whenever she makes the tiniest movement. She’s going to be the talk of the night later at the club.

At the party he’s currently driving to, however, they’re going to _ hate _ her.

Which is exactly why he invited her in the first place. She’s everything his family loves to criticize about his life, personified. 

“Ugh, I need to see my hairstylist soon. I’m a mess,” she mumbles, way too loudly for his taste. 

Despite all the things she’s said, he's ignored every single one of her comments, focusing on the road ahead and quietly wondering which one of his relatives he's going to end up fighting with that night. Ransom isn't looking forward to it, but he knows by then it's basically inevitable.

He doesn’t even know why he’s going to the stupid party, it’s not like anyone besides his grandfather asked him to go. It’s not Harlan’s birthday nor anyone else’s, so he doesn’t have any obligation to attend.

Matter of fact, he finds it completely unnecessary. Tonight is nothing but an over the top job promotion announcement for (Y/N), and all the family already knows. Harlan announced it during one of their impromptu family dinners and caused havoc among them before they even got to the main course.

It’d been hilarious, actually. Walter and Linda got up from their seats so fast they nearly knocked them down, starting a screaming match that was only encouraged by their spouses. Joni waited until that was over to express her piece of mind, the entire thing was so backhanded Ransom sat quietly and couldn’t figure out if she was for or against Harlan’s decision.

That time he’d been the only one not to make a scene, because he already knew. His grandfather had voiced his thoughts and they’d fought about it privately in his office, unlike all the other times.

He wonders if his family will show up at all, or if it will end up being only Harlan’s house staff and (Y/N).

Everyone is mad at Harlan for his decision, and he knows his mother well enough to know she can be a bitch. Though he wonders if he’s the kind that won’t show up at all, or will do to make sure everyone knows just how displeased she is.

Still, it’s not (Y/N)’s fault, so they shouldn’t take it out on her. His chest feels heavy when he thinks about it, an entire party planned for her and there’s no one who will genuinely congratulate her success. Because whether his family likes it or not, she earned it.

The girl ( _ Jessica? Erika? _ ) suddenly says something else but Ransom doesn’t really process it, far too deep into his own thoughts.

He shrugs off a strange stiffness on his shoulders, asking himself why the fuck he cares if (Y/N) enjoys herself or not. He’s going because his grandfather invited him, he can have some food and liquor, show off his new girl, fight a bit, and then go to the club.

No other reason at all.

They get there surprisingly early, compared to when he goes on his own. He tells himself it’s because of his own eagerness of seeing the expression in everybody’s faces when he walks in with a girl he’ll claim to be his girlfriend. Thankfully, everybody seems to be already there.

He gets out of his car and walks straight to the entrance, already able to hear the music coming out of the house.

“Ransom, wait for me!” Angelica ( _? _ ) whines, struggling to walk in the dirt with the heels she’s wearing. 

Ransom rolls his eyes and simply stands still, looking at her over his shoulder and tapping a foot impatiently. When she finally reaches him she clings onto his arm, it’s unpleasant, but he has to act like it isn’t to sell his lie.

The first person they run into as they walk in is Marta, who is likely trying to get away from his family. Her large brown eyes widen when she sees the girl on his side, but she manages to smile politely at them as she heads upstairs, as if looking for something.

He feels a smirk pulling his lips, if the most reserved person in this house couldn’t help to react, he’s looking forward to the rest.

“Who is she?” Blondie asks, as he walks her inside the house.

“Doesn’t matter.” He simply says.

His face finishes lighting up when he spots most of the family gathered in the living room, where tables with food are set. “Good afternoon,” he greets loudly, making sure everyone hears.

Sure enough, the chatter among them stops, as they turn to look at him. Linda’s smile at hearing her son’s voice falters and immediately turns into a scowl when she sees Rebecca _ (maybe?). _

“ _ Afternoon _ ,” he hears Joni say, her tone already teasing. “Who is this, Ransom?” She asks, standing up to greet the stranger.

“Oh, I’m Becca.” _ Close enough.  _ “Ran’s girlfriend.” Both women shake hands, and kiss each other's cheeks loudly.

“Girlfriend?” Linda exclaims from her seat, her knuckles white from how hard she’s gripping the glass in her hand. 

“Since  _ when _ ?” His dad asks, half a piece of quiche in hand, sitting right next to her. 

“Does it matter? She looks lovely!” Joni says before Ransom can remember when this lie began. Her tone is similar to that she uses when she’s pretending to be supportive, he knows it. 

She’s enjoying this, way too much, already linking her arm with the girl and inviting her to sit on the couch with her, excited to squeeze every detail out of her. He let’s her go, rejoicing in the way she no longer has her bony arms around him. He really doesn’t care what she says to Joni or anyone else, he never does.

At the corner of the room he spots Harlan and (Y/N), staring at him with stoic looks on their faces. She looks beautiful, leaning on the loveseat next to his grandfather’s favorite one, resting her head on one hand, arm propped over the armrest, and the other one holding a glass of wine. She’s wearing a suit, similar to the ones his mother wears but not as flashy. The colors of her blazer are muted, her shirt a plain white, and black slacks. 

Still she stands out amongst everyone. At least to him.

Harlan and her share a quick glance before going back to meet his eye. He raises his brows, as if silently asking _ ‘can I help you?’ _ to them, but neither react as they turn to each other and carry on with their conversation. It kind of bothers him.

This may be a long night.

* * *

“Are these made with, like, actual cheese?” Becca asks no one in particular, examining the long table full of food and appetizers.

Ransom sits away from her, simply watching how she takes pieces of food and then discards them after having a taste. She hasn’t eaten a full portion of anything since they arrived, claiming if she does her dress might rip from the sides.

This plan backfired on him, a couple minutes after introductions, Joni’s impromptu interview, and the girl flashing way too much skin to every person single at the house, everybody decided to ignore her and carry on with their night as normal. Her presence is so unimportant even his mother has engaged in conversation with (Y/N) more than once to keep herself occupied.

Hell, even the _ public _ announcement of (Y/N)’s promotion as Harlan’s personal supervisor within Blood like Wine went without much trouble, given his date decided to start jumping and clapping in response. Everyone was so annoyed they simply congratulated her loudly and quickly dispersed to engage in private conversations with one another.

So now he’s sulking, pursing his lips and frowning deeply as he wonders what went wrong with this.

Yes, everyone dislikes her. Yet not one person has bothered to make a big deal out of it like he was hoping they would, nor to ask  _ him _ about their supposed relationship. Aside from Meg, who simply walked by to ask  _ “How much is she charging you, Ransom? _ ”

But not even her stuck long enough for him to pick up a fight.

He lets out a heavy, melodramatic sigh, silently thankful the blonde girl is too focused on her conversation with Joni about non-GMO’s and _ whatever-else-non’s  _ to notice it. Some of the people already left the party, mostly the cooks and servers, along with Meg who left for some other party full of feminists, presumably. Only his family is left.

“What is it now, Ransom?” His grandfather’s deep voice startles him for a moment, and stares at him silently waiting for a response. 

The old man takes a seat next to him, a grin of his face that’s slightly annoying. He’s enjoying himself, yet Ransom has no idea why.

“Very interesting companion you brought tonight,” Harlan comments, making Ransom want to start smiling, too. This may be it, the fight he’s been waiting for. “Are you going anywhere after this?” 

That isn’t what he was thinking he’d ask, but he checks his clock, is close to 11, still too early to go to the club.

“Maybe, what’s it to you?” He’s on edge, wondering which buttons he must press in order to get what he wants tonight.

“Just wondering. I’d like to talk to you before you leave.  _ Privately, _ if you don’t mind. Just find me when you decide to go.”

And with that, he leaves as quick as he came. Leaving a very confused Ransom staring at him until he loses him in the hallway that leads to the bathroom.

Another sigh, followed by the rest of the whiskey in his glass in one shot (his tenth of the night, perhaps). No one is in the living room anymore, except for Joni and Becca, who haven’t stopped yapping since they arrived. He stands up to scan the house, find out where everyone is.

Walter is the first one he spots, out on the porch. He can see his figure through the tinted glass next to the entrance door. When he looks towards the opposite side of the hall, he sees a figure standing outside. 

It doesn’t take him long to figure out it’s (Y/N), and before he can process his own movements, he’s already opening the backdoor to step outside. A wave of cold air hits him, making him gasp and her aware of his presence.

“Ransom,” his name sounds like a melody as it falls from her lips. “Thought you already left.”

He scoffs, quickly composing himself as he walks over closer. “We haven’t talked all night yet you already want me gone? Why invite me at all then?”

She smiles, looking back to the sky above them. “ _ I _ didn’t invite you, Harlan did.” Ransom bites his tongue to keep himself from laughing, he likes it when she talks back. His friends never do. 

Not that she’s his friend, but she’s not family, and no one outside of it does.

“What are you doing out here on your own?” He asks after a small moment of silence, his brain failing to come up with a better thing to say. “Too much attention for your sensible personality?”

The glare she throws at him doesn’t go unnoticed, he loves it, growing curious as to how far he can take it.

“I just needed some time alone,” she says offhandedly.

“Right, because you never are at these things. Everyone just  _ loves _ talking to you, even more so after your huge promotion.”

“Yup. Don’t know if you noticed but I’m Walter’s favorite. He hasn’t left my side  _ all _ night, just like when we’re at work.” The undertones of sarcasm in her voice are subtle, but he catches them, even though she’s rarely sarcastic.

It’s curious that she mentions that, about Walter following her around at work. But he brushes it off, deciding not to pay much attention to it, and instead enjoying this little banter they’re sharing.

“Don’t know about that, but my mother might be missing you right now,” he continues, trying not to laugh at his own words. “She talked to you a grand total of, what, 3 times, tonight?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m honoured, she only scowled once when I dared to engage with her monologues.” 

They look at each other, momentarily smiling in compliance.

“She fucking hates me.”

“Yeah.”

They laugh, and it’s genuine. He feels warm, like he always does whenever they’re not fighting and manages to hear her laughter. It’s rare when they get to share a moment like this, probably his own fault.

“They all do... Even your cousin with the phone glued to his hands.” All the playfulness in her voice is suddenly gone as she looks up once more, “that’s why I’m here. You know I don’t fit in with your family.” The sincerity in her voice takes him aback, it’s not often that she opens out to anyone, especially not him. “I never will.”

Ransom feels his body stiffen, mouth hanging open at her words. His brain is suddenly slow, causing him to take a moment to process the sudden change in her demeanor. “How much have you had to drink?” He teases, his deep blue eyes wandering from the sky to her, watching out for any reaction.

“What? Why?” Her brows furrow, confusion clear on her face.

“You’re getting sentimental on me, it’s kinda fucking bumming me out.”

She scoffs loudly, visibly regretting her small moment of vulnerability with him. He wants to laugh at it, but he can’t, because deep down he’s being honest. Knowing his family’s mistreatment makes her feel uncomfortable and rejected despite Harlan’s efforts to celebrate her success, does make him feel upset, and angry, at all of them. 

“Can I help you with anything? Or did you just come here to be annoying?, like you always are.” She asks, her tone laced with irritability, compared to a moment ago. She crosses her arms over her chest, trembling ever so slightly.

Ransom looks at her curiously, realizing she isn’t wearing her blazer anymore and snow is starting to fall, snowflakes accumulating on the top of her head and her long lashes. He rolls his eyes as he removes his coat, and throws it her way.

“I’m bored,” he simply says.

The woman inspects the coat cautiously, evidently taken aback by Ransom’s action. But instead of questioning it, she accepts it, and places the coat over her shoulders. It’s too big for her, he tries not to smile, wondering if it’s going to end up smelling like her perfume when she gives it back to him.

“What about Becca?” The question is quiet, as if she didn’t want him to hear it, but he did.

“What about her?” He raises a single brow at her query, a shit eating grin already pulling his lips. “She’s fucking hot, right? You like her?”

He’s unprepared for the hearty laugh that leaves her chest, as she clutches the coat closer to her body. It makes his chest tighten, but feels annoyance seeping in, as it becomes evident she’s apparently laughing at him.

“Do _ you _ ?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” It comes out too defensive for his own liking, perhaps he’s had too much to drink too.

“She’s been calling herself ugly and fat all night long waiting for you to say something, or even hold her hand. Yet here you are, bothering _ me _ instead.” She snaps, and Ransom can’t figure out why. First he felt like she avoided him all night, and now she’s  _ upset? _ About him bringing a date to the party. 

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything. You know I’m not that kind of man.” He says defensively, not getting why he’s excusing himself to her. He doesn’t owe her any explanations.

“ _ God.  _ You really think I don’t know why you brought her, Ransom?” She’s looking at him straight in the eye. Her eyes are mesmerizing, their color so enthralling they make him feel dumb.

He stands quietly, holding her gaze as his brain tries to keep up with how strange she’s behaving that night. Ransom is at a loss for words, confused as to how his night ended up here.

“Because… she’s my girlfriend,” he finally manages to say.

“Right, of course.” Another laugh from her, this time it’s bitter. His head starts spinning as she removes his coat and pushes it into his chest, too harshly for his liking. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” He asks, following close as she tries to head back inside the house. He steps in front of the door as quickly as he can, his large frame keeping her from reaching the doorknob.

“ _ You are,  _ Ransom. You’re such a fucking immature asshole, you can't even be nice to the people that you supposedly like.”

“I don’t like you.” He spits the words straight to her flushed face. He’s lying, but he hasn’t been able to accept his feelings for her, and he sure as hell isn’t going to in the middle of a fight.

“Then why did you kiss me?!”

There it is, what he’s been waiting for her to mention for weeks. 

About a month ago a dinner with Harlan had dragged on for too long, he got way too drunk and she was working late, so his grandfather asked her to make sure he arrived home safely.

He could stand up and walk, so she just drove him and helped open his front door. When she announced she was leaving, he couldn’t help himself, and carefully grabbed her face to place a kiss on her lips. But the next Monday when she visited Harlan to drop some manuscripts she didn’t mention it at all. For days, Ransom wondered if he’d dreamed about it.

When he was sure it hadn’t been a dream, he heard she was working close with the squirm at Blood like Wine who kept asking her out on dates, according to Fran (who somehow knew all the gossip going at the company without her even working there).

It pissed him off, knowing the girl he’s had an eye on since they met had turned him down to date someone else.

“I was drunk. It didn’t mean a thing,” he finally finds his words after a short circuit inside his mind.

“Clearly,” she matches how loud his voice suddenly is, still trying her hardest to move him away from the door.

“I don’t get why you’re so fucking pissed, aren’t you dating that idiot Michael?” He manages to keep her in one spot, holding her tightly by the arms, yet careful not to hurt her.

She immediately pauses to throw him a look, visibly appalled by his question. “I’m not dating anyone,  _ idiot.  _ Especially not fucking _ Michael _ .”

“Then why didn’t  _ you _ mention it before?” He questions, desperate to understand her reasoning. “You don’t get to be this angry after you were the first one to act like nothing happened.”

“I get to be as angry as I fucking want, Ransom!” She’s getting tired from trying to get away from him, his large hands are holding her in place, just where he wants her. “And how could you expect anyone to take anything you do seriously?”

“Then why are you doing so right now?” He smirks, equally amused and irritated.

“Because it meant something to  _ me _ –”

Whatever else she was going to say is interrupted by Ransom’s lips meeting hers, as he brings her body closer to him. He hears her gasp against his lips, and feels how she tries to push him away, but he doesn’t bulge.

He brushes his tongue over her lips and relishes in the way her body goes limp in his arms. Once she stops fighting him, one of his hands circle around her waist, while the other one slithers behind her neck, his thumb brushing her cheek tenderly. Ransom bites her lower lip softly, causing her to open her mouth for their tongues to meet. Her hands travel from his chest to his shoulders, where she grips his sweater tightly.

After what feels like an hour, they finally split, gasping for air. He feels dizzy, wondering if it’s the alcohol or the kiss they shared. He opens his eyes to find hers still closed, her chest raising quickly yet rhythmically.

“Are you drunk right now?” She asks quietly, licking her lips as she slowly opens her eyes, but keeps her sight focused on the loose strands of his sweater in the middle of his chest.

“No.” Ransom quickly replies, confidence coming back to him as he watches her grow flustered. He dips in to give her another quick kiss, which causes her to finally look at him.

“Then, why–”

“Because I wanted to.”

She clenches her jaw, and finally pushes him away, making some distance between them. “You can’t just take what you want from me,” the words leave her chest with a shaky sigh.

He chuckles, biting his lip as he watches her shy away, trying to compose herself. “That’s not what I meant,” she looks at him confused. “I want  _ you _ .”

The door hits his back before any of them can say anything else, and he moves away for Becca to stand at the entrance, followed by Joni. 

“Ransom, what’s going on?” She asks loudly, staring at them curiously. A quick glance inside the house and they both can see everyone is peeking through the hall, including Harlan. “We heard screaming and then… we didn’t.”

“None of your fucking business,” he spats, annoyed they’ve been interrupted.

“Ransom, that’s no way to talk to your girlfriend.” Joni chirps, disapproving of his attitude towards the girl.

“Bite me, Joni. This has nothing to do with you either, with  _ any _ of you.” Ransom says, loud enough for the rest of his family to hear.

“Are you ok, dear?” She ignores him, directing her question towards (Y/N).

(Y/N) blinks twice, as if Joni had talked to her in another language, and quickly nods. “Yeah, I’m going home,” she croaks, finally walking past Ransom and inside the house to pick up her belongings. 

He can’t help but follow behind, ignoring everyone’s glances upon them and Joni screaming about why she’s going to leave her own party.

“Sweetheart, are you ok?” Harlan asks before she can head out the door, holding her in place with a delicate hand over her shoulder.

“Yes,” she smiles sweetly at him, every trace of her fight with Ransom disappearing from her features. “I’ll see you Monday, ok?”

It’s evident Harlan knows she’s not alright, and that whatever Ransom said or did affected her more than she will admit. Ransom knows he absolutely won't put her on the spot in the middle of what was supposed to be her night.

She opens the door and stands under the threshold, taking a deep breath of the cold autumn air. “Next time you bring a girlfriend, make sure you at least know how to pretend to like her,” her words are like a punch but he does his best to seem unbothered as she walks away.

Everyone at the house starts murmuring, he swears he hears Fran giggling, probably high as shit.

“Ransom, what does she mean by that?” Becca asks, pouting ridiculously and on the verge of tears.

“Nothing. I’ll drive you to your house,” he quickly says, putting on his coat and trying not to take a deep breath of its new scent.

“But what about the club–”

“I said I’ll take you home.” His tone is unnecessarily harsh, but he’s tired and angry, wanting nothing else but to get home and drink himself into oblivion for being such an idiot. “Can we talk tomorrow?” He asks his grandfather, a look of defeat painted over his features.

Harlan glares at him, disappointment seeping through his pores, but he finally nods, moving to the side to let them both out. “Eight o’clock,” he demands, watching him sternly as he closes the door on them with a loud bang.


End file.
